Will writing make you rich?

by SJ Griffin

Yeah, good one. Oh. You are serious. Really? I’m going to assume you mean financially. My answer is: no. And I’m kind of glad about that. In a way. I suppose.

I think I could probably write an airport book like Dan Brown or someone else whose book I haven’t read. Maybe one of those ones about shopping or that book that I refuse to discuss. I could probably do that. Would it make me happy? No. Why not? I want to write because I feel this compelling need to express something about who I am out loud. I think I do this so I know it myself. If I wrote a book about a man chasing Columbian drug dealers and saving the lives of implausibly beautiful women who work for the American government that would say nothing about me or what I think about the world. If I wrote a book based on a film I’d seen or rewrote a story someone else had thought up, again, I don’t think that says anything to me about me. And so, I don’t really see the point of doing that.

I’m not saying I’m Van Gogh or Pina Bausch or Charles Bukowski or any of those people who really add something to the world with their work. But, you know what? I’m not ready to say that I’m not. Not at this point anyway. Let’s wait until I’ve written seven books. Then we’ll continue this conversation. Yes?